Interlude
by Baileyfish
Summary: A brief interlude between Petunia and Harry. Short, one shot. Updated part 2: Harry and Molly reach an understanding.
1. Interlude

A/N: This is a brief interlude between Petunia and Harry. Short, one shot. edited on January 31 - I only added the last paragraph, which changes the entire feel, I know, but I couldn't leave it the way it was. Again, thank you to all those who have read, and a much love to those who took the time to comment.

Disclaimer: All belongs to JK Rowling.

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"Interlude"

A shrill scream of a newly wakened baby pierced through the deep rumbling of Vernon Dursley's snores. Petunia Evans-Dursley knew how it was, and dragged her weary body out of bed. She padded down the hall in her pink slippers, tying the pink bathrobe securely around her waist. Creaking the door open, she looked in upon the face of her baby boy. He was still, chubby hands clutching the blue baby blanket. For a moment she thought that he was done crying for the night when a fresh scream filled the night air. It wasn't her precious Diddy-Dumpkins. It was her nephew.

She immediatly turned to go back to bed and ignore the crying of the annoying boy, but for some reason her feet led her down the stairs to the tiny cupboard underneath. Slowly, and quite unsure of why she was here, she opened the door and peered into the musty area. The baby with persistantly messy black hair was tossing and turning, his face a mask of tears.

Unable to stop herself, she reached out for the boy, and rocked him in her arms gently, silently whispering soothing words. Harry's cries died quickly, Petunia noted reluctantly, much quicker then her own Dudley's ever had. Harry opened his small eyes and looked up at Petunia. Once again, she was shocked at how much like Lily's his eyes were. "Hello Harry," she whispered, "Had a bad dream?" Harry's face turned into a grin and his tiny hand reached up to her face. Forgetting herself, she caught the hand in her own and gazed down upon this small wonder.

Looking again into the cupboard in which her husband and she stored this boy, a wave of guilt swept over her and she staggered into the kitchen and sat down. Tears pricked her eyes in the late night and for the only time in her life, Petunia mourned her sister. As if trying to sooth her now, Harry cooed gently, leading Petunia to cry even more. "Oh Lily!" she whipsered, partly to herself and partly to anyone who would listen. She held the small boy close to her body, and not before long felt him reach his arms around her neck, giving her his tiny, baby hug. Petunia hugged him back, loving every inch of this tiny baby for the small affection shown to her.

When the clock chimed, Petunia was rushed back to reality. With a heart of steel, she carried Harry back to his cupboard. She layed him amongst the dirt and the spiders and only faltered when he gurgled up at her questioningly. But she closed the door anyway. As she climbed the stairs, she thought foward to the morning, when she would return to her hatred for the innocent boy beneath her feet. 


	2. Surrogate

a/n: First, a great big thanks to those who read and reviewed the first part. This, too, is another one-shot, but this time it's between Harry and Molly.

disclaimer: All belongs to JK Rowling.

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"Surrogate"

Finally, it was over - outside. There were parties and cheering; reckless celebrations and unbelievable laughter - outside. The world was free of Lord Voldemort, but inside the walls of St. Mungos intensive care unit, the crowd outside of room 336 were quiet, teary and terrified. They stared en masse at the closed door, willing it to open with good news. Still, the door remained closed and with every second, their hearts broke a little more. For inside room 336 were several medi-witches and wizards, doing all they could to save the battered savior of the wizarding world.

The quiet was getting to Molly. Quiet never meant any good, in her experience. The Burrow was always loud, and that was the way she liked it. Noise was reassuring. Noise meant life. She had been at Hogwarts when Professor McGonagall had announced Albus' death. There was a deafening silence in that castle for weeks afterwards. In the sadness of the last couple of years, Molly had always felt relief when she was surrounded by noise. She felt her soul lift every time she heard her children speak, laugh, even cry. Any sound was good, because it meant they were still alive. And the longer there was silence outside of room 336, the more she feared the worst. So when the door creaked open, Molly was the first to stand. The doctor's face was tense, but he immediately sought to placate the group.

"He's going to be okay."

Somewhere behind Molly, Ginny began sobbing in relief, and she could feel everyone breathe for the first time that night. Remus stepped foward, silent tears on his face.

"Can we see him?"

"The damage was very extensive, and we had to do a lot of work. He's awake, but we'd really prefer it if he had a chance to relax." His face was tight as he looked at the crowd, as if bracing himself for an onslaught. He wasn't disappointed.

"Excuse me?" It was Molly, of course. "You want to leave that boy ALONE? After everything he has been through, you honestly think it a good idea to leave him alone in that room?!" She was shouting now; Arthur placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her, but she shrugged him off. "I have half a mind to curse you myself! He needs us right now!"

"Ma'am, you have to understand," the doctor attempted, "regular protocal is to deny entry to anyone but family. Now I will allow you to see Mr. Potter after he's had a chance to relax. I'm really being quite fair, as you aren't even family."

Clearly, this was the wrong thing to say, he thought, as the group collectively stepped back from the Weasley woman.

"NOT HIS FAMILY? Why, you horrible little man, I'll have you know that you are very much mistaken! That is my son in there and by Merlin, I will go in there and this nothing you can do to stop me!" With that, she stalked past the terrified man and threw open the door.

Harry was sitting up in the bed, looking at his hands, and Molly immediatly knew he had heard everything. Another woman may have been embarrased about such a vocal assumption, but it never crossed her mind. Molly knew what was right, and what was hers, and from the the moment he walked up to her at King's Cross, all limbs and nerves, Molly knew in her heart that this boy was hers.

He raised his eyes to hers, and gone was the warrior who had led men three times his age into war. This was just a lost little boy who desperately needed a hug. Without a second thought, Molly was crossing the room to gather him in his arms. He was still in her arms, and she remembered the first time she had hugged him like this - right after Voldemort had risen again. When Harry had disappeared with that Diggory boy, Molly felt a wild panic in her heart, the same she'd feel if it had been Ron or Bill. When she saw Moody take him into the castle, she knew, as any mother would, that he was still in danger. It wasn't until they were all together in the hospital wing that the adrenaline rush died away and she allowed herself to cry out her worry. That hug was meant to comfort herself as much as him. She had needed to hold him tight, feel his heart beating and know that he was still alive. Then, too, he had frozen in her embrace, clearly unused to such a touch. Since then, she had tried to restrain herself so that he wouldn't feel uncomfortable. Now, however, she couldn't stop herself even if she had wanted to.

They sat like that for another minute before she pulled back slightly, arms still gripping his shoulders, and examined his face. He stared unblinkingly as she reached one hand up, brushed the hair out of his eyes and then caressed his cheek. "My heroic son," she whispered, and began to cry quietly. She pulled him to her chest again, and this time he held her back, gripping onto her like a lifeline. When she placed a soft kiss on the top of his messy head, he finally let himself cry.

Sobs wracked his broken frame, and Molly rocked him slowly, making gentle soothing noises. She held him until he calmed, and as he began to doze off she tucked him in, whispering "My sweet, brave boy. I love you so much." He smiled softly and, just before he fell into a restful slumber, responded, "I love you too, mum." 


End file.
